


Anything for Family

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The eldest sister was named Marie, and she took care of her siblings best she could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything for Family

**Author's Note:**

> The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble. ~Clara Ortega
> 
> Written for Cyn

 

 

Her name was Marie, and she danced the longest. Her feet were callused, where her sisters were softer, because even when the shoes wore out she'd keep dancing. She was the eldest, in need of marrying soon to avoid being an old maid, but when she twirled with her prince you would think her a young girl rather than a woman of twenty -and-two. Her eyes were bright as her prince led her about, feet light on the floor, and you'd think her an entirely different woman than the one who, during the day, found something wrong with each suitor brought to her.

She wished to marry as much as the next girl--and despite the fact that the next girl was her sister Loretta, who danced almost as much as Marie herself each night, they _did_ wish marriage. All twelve of the girls did. The younger the girl, though, the less likely she'd marry up or an equal; with twelve daughters to marry off, the king could not afford to be too particular. Jeanette, the youngest, was only thirteen yet, but she'd wept more night than one in the long room the sister's shared, clung to Marie and sobbed about her fears of having to marry a commoner. Some little girls had nightmares about monsters; Jeanette, and some of the other younger princesses, had nightmares about marrying old farmers who smelled and left them without shoes. Marie and the older girls would hold their sisters, stroke their hair back and reassure them that it wouldn't be _that_ bad, but they had no way to promise them a marriage to a prince. They knew the odds were against it, that dowries grow smaller the farther you go down the line.

And then--

Marie had found it, the trap door. She knew it hadn't been there before--she'd lived in this room her entire life, and she knew every inch of it. Every place a sick sister had ever thrown up on, every place where the floorboards were just enough uneven that you could trip if you weren't careful, the spot their mother the queen has kept her rocking chair on so she could sing them all to sleep. The boards had always been solid there, but now there were cracks and a small bronze handle.

Therese and Loretta watched the younger girls--reluctantly, as not one of the eleven other princesses wished to stay behind--on Marie's orders, and the eldest princess descended into a world of impossible, beautiful, wondrous things.

Can you imagine what it was like to walk down steps that had never been built into a world of dark shadows and beautiful trees? Where bark was made of gold, branches of silver, diamond leaves drifting down as the maple leaves did in the courtyard? Marie thought of all the dowries that could be paid by simply having someone rake up leaves from the ground, thought of telling Jeanette and Elisabeth--of telling _all_ her sisters--that they needn't worry ever again about marrying anything short of a king. She scooped up leaves, tucking them in her waistband, and thought of her father's face and the delight she'd see on it when she poured a pile of metal and gems at his feet.

As she started to straighten and turn back to the stairs, to go to her sisters and stick twigs of gold behind their ears and tuck sparkling leaves into their hair, she heard the sound of footsteps, and turned her head to see who was making them.

She'd thought it was one of the other girls, ready to lecture whichever it was on listening to what she's told, so her mouth drops open to see the tall man with dark hair and a circlet of gold across his brow, green tunic showing off broad shoulders and dark tan leggings beneath it showing off his legs in turn.

There are some men in the world who are attractive, and some who are handsome, and some whose features are almost magical in how they tempt women, bring color to a princess' cheeks and uncertainty to her voice.

Sometimes it's not "almost" magical, too.

When Marie ascended the stairs again, her eyes were a little distant, but bright and sparkling as if she'd tasted the best of wines and was longing for more. Her voice had a laugh in it, already, and the other princesses started curiously at the eldest one, the one who was far more often serious than teasing. Her words told of beautiful, impossible things, and in the end all eleven sisters followed the oldest princess down the stairs. The youngest girls clung to an arm of an older sibling, for the stairs were somehow old, despite only appearing that night, and they lacked a railing.

And then everything was wonderful. It was hard to think beyond that, to put into words why none of them felt need to fear. Why none of them could ever remember to go to bed earlier, or to not dance till yet another pair of shoes fell apart. It didn't matter, though, really, or it didn't seem to. The days were merely time to rest, to acquire a new pair of shoes, new stockings, to think of ways to make themselves look more beautiful each night, each princess longing to be seen as perfect in the eyes of her princes. The days had suitors coming, boring ones who were too old, or too hairy, or too lowly in rank, too boring to talk to, too poor a dancer. Their father was furious as they shunned king after prince after duke after knight, and not one of the girls cared. When he issued the challenge that any man who could find out why they were so tired during the day, why their shoes and stalking acquired holes during the night, could have his choice of bride--well, that was a challenge to them too, in a way. It was rather fun. Marie and Elisabeth were the cleverest of the twelve, and they took turns drugging man after man who thought to win one of their hands in marriage. And, well, they were all so tired during the day that they never had the energy to worry or feel poorly for the men who failed and were executed.

When it would all fall apart--and it would, though the princesses thought it would never end--Marie would marry the soldier who solved the riddle, and her sisters would marry princes and knights and dukes in turn, one after the other. Some of the marriages were happy enough, and Therese's was even passionate. And as for the unhappy ones, for Loretta's that brought her slap marks on her cheek, or little Jeanette's whose husband took his pleasure in the servant girls--well.

There were always still cups that could be drugged, when the Queen Marie came to visit her sister, and that night would be spent with two sisters curled up in bed together, the older telling the younger how to tend to business of a funeral. 

 


End file.
